


Si deus (why you?)

by marechiar



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24622471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marechiar/pseuds/marechiar
Summary: Si Deus, unde malum? If there's a god, why is there evil?Why her? Why is God playing pranks on her life, Eve asks to the sky, why is God sending her way this killer, this assassin, ruthless and merciless and psychotic? Why couldn't life just be normal? Eve looks up, for a moment, and there are no stars, there's no divine signal to answer her; Villanelle keeps watching her, staring, bewildered and curious and slightly smiling, and she's soft and not murderous at all, and Eve, again, asks why. But above all, she asks herself why does she like it.orthe bridge scene from 3x08, but with a twist
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50





	Si deus (why you?)

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! so I wrote this at 2 am thinking about philosophy from high school lessons and paradoxes so.. you'll see for yourselves

_«God - says Epicurus - either wants to remove evil, but he cannot; or he can, but does not want to; or he does not want and cannot; or wants and can. If he wants, but cannot, he is impotent; which is inadmissible in God. If he can, but does not want, he is envious; which is also alien to God. If he does not want and cannot, then he is envious and impotent; and even this cannot be attributed to God. If he wants and can, which is only fitting for God, then where do the evils come from? Why doesn't he remove it?.»_

Eve finds herself thinking about this, unprovoked, while walking down the bridge; once upon a time, months, years before all of this, before MI6 and Villanelle and the killings and shenanigans, Nico sat down on their shared couch and told her about this paradox. She listened to him while half paying attention to the tv, listened to the ramblings of a mediocre teacher, who teached math but was also keen on these questions.

And Eve thinks about this because everything in her life seem to be revolving around theodicy these days, on how good and bad and evil exist in the world, on how the preposterous latin muttered by Niko at the end of his discourse comes naturally to Eve's mind.

 _Si Deus, unde malum?_ If there's a God, why is there evil?

Eve found it almost funny at the time; the world was an evil place, sure, but with a steady job, a loving husband and a nice home she tended not to grasp the concept entirely. She didn't know, when slumped in her couch, laiding in bed, under Niko, while eating, shopping, laughing, that evil could be very present and material in her life and that evil could have a pair of beautiful, piercing hazel eyes. That evil could have a name, which sounded rough and rude and poetic altogether, soft hands, tender looks, light pink lips. Eve thinks about this, when she stops dead in her track on the bridge and turns around. Villanelle is staring right at her, focused. They look at each other.

  
Eve feels the cold wind on her skin, her hands and fingertips unresponsive, she hear the river flowing under them and think about how she would like to be, just for once, relaxed and carefree; maybe take one of those famous tourists tour boats, listening to monotonous voices telling her all about the great London, the center of it all, about the greatness of the city dimmed by street lights in the night. Eve thinks.

She thinks about why Villanelle had to found her. Why her? Why is God playing pranks on her life, Eve asks to the sky, why is God sending her way this killer, this assassin, ruthless and merciless and psychotic? Why couldn't life just be normal? Eve looks up, for a moment, and there are no stars, there's no divine signal to answer her; Villanelle keeps watching her, staring, bewildered and curious and slightly smiling, and she's soft and not murderous at all, and Eve, again, asks why. But above all, she asks herself why does she like it.  
Why can't she stop thinking about Villanelle, about the way her name sounds so perfect in her mouth, the Russian accent pouring in every letter, why on earth Eve wants to kiss her on her nose first, just to see her reaction, and the her mouth and neck and cheek, just senseless kissing her until she can't breath, until they have to stop. And suddenly, she's out of questions, she doesn't have any answers. She doesn't know why she turned. Villanelle unconsciously fidgets with her coat. Eve has to speak now, or she never will. But she doesn't know how to say it. How does Eve convey in correct grammar the feeling of longing and belonging together, the fact that Villanelle is a cold shower and the fire of hell, the fact that she can feel the red thread beneath them, pulling and stretching and adjusting to their movements? She can't. So she opens her mouth, puts a foot forward stomping on hard cement, and says:

  
"Why are we doing this?" and then, she sighs. Another question, adding itself on the endless list Eve is planning to bring a minister or a priest or someone who can tell her what exactly is God's plan, where is the providence, why has she fallen for a person who kills for a living. It's almost funny, and Eve in fact suppresses an hysterical laugh, that Villanelle can't actually hear her. The cars keep coming, the buses, the people, and they're distant, more than two dozen feets and Villanelle can't hear her.

  
"What?" the blonde girl says, uncertain "What did you say?" She looks confused and almost takes a step forward. But she doesn't. She waits for Eve, always waits for Eve to make up her mind, to follow her. And Eve is honestly tired of asking questions. God isn't answering anyway. She makes a few steps forward, Villanelle trembles a little. 

  
"I said, why are we doing this?" she repeats, and this time Villanelle can hear her, she's closer and braver, and looks confused.

  
"What do you mean? You wanted to." The Russian girl is clearly trying to figure out what game they're playing. But Eve is sick of games, of chasings, of hotels and waiting and fooling herself again and again. She keeps walking, each step feels like the first and last one she'll ever take, she walks and she gets closer to Villanelle and 

  
"I don't know what I want!" It's true, actually. She doesn't know what she wants. Does she wants a killer talking to her, touching her, fucking her? Jury's still out. But does she need it? Yes, like air. Like water out in a desert. 

  
"Then why are you walking back?" Villanelle is grasping for clues "You're supposed to stay still if you're not sure, going forward if you are, but not coming back! That's not part of the plan!" She's starting to look slightly worried.

  
Eve doesn't have a plan, she doesn't want one. Every single plan she'd made in her life was thrown out the moment her eyes landed on Villanelle's face, body, the moment she heard her voice, saw her crimes scenes. She doesn't want one.

  
"Yeah well, I don't think the plan's going to work" Steps forward. "I don't think I want it to" Forward. "We don't have to" Forward. "We can't" She stops. Villanelle is right in front of her, her eyes tender and curious and soft, a little grin staring to showing off on her face. 

  
She tries to play it cool and says "I know you couldn't live without me" and Eve looks at her, she notices the imperceptible tremble of Villanelle's hands, the way her head is tilted to the side, she takes in Villanelle's standing figure, tall and scary and exciting and in that moment, honestly, delicate. Fingers tenderly chase each other, their hands are intertwined; Eve isn't living the classic slow motion of romantic movies. Everything seems so fast and sudden and as thrilling as Eve remembers every encounter with Oksana is.

She plays with her index finger on Oksana's hand's back, tracing little circles and pining dots of a secret morse code; she can almost feel the electric energy going up and down the other girl's body, from her head to the last of her fingers, trying to restrain herself, to give Eve her space. She doesn't talk.  
Traces Oksana's veins up her arm, carreses Oksana's neck, up to her face, softly draws on her chin and then mouth and then nose, her hairline, slowly and carefully and treating her with the respect she deserves, knowing she doesn't want it, knowing she's just waiting for a clue to have her, in every sense conceivable. But she does it anyway, because it's right and also because in the meantime she's still, despite her bravery, searching for an answer within herself, about what she's doing and why, and why is this happening to her and how is she gonna handle it. 

But then, as if sensing Eve's thoughts, Oksana looks down, looks at her directly in the eyes, pleading and parting her mouth and looking almost lost, and Eve knows she can't escape from this. She can't escape from her.

She doesn't know if they're meant to be together, if they're soulmate, if the pull she feels in her stomach and low abdomen every time they're together is really the red thread of fate or if God is just bored with the traditional evil of wars and bloodsheds and wants to be entertained. She doesn't know and decides she doesn't care. 

It's a light movement, and Eve is kissing Oksana. They kiss there, on the bridge, on the smoking, burned down remainings of their old life, and Eve doesn't care if God is watching or not, if he can or wants to change anything, to straighten evil, to set things right. Right there, right in that moment, they kiss, and it's deep and full of promises and sharen secrets, it's everything she never had with Niko, it's bold and scary and feels like jumping off a cliff but finally, for the first time since sensing Villanelle's eyes on her in that bathroom, it's the answer Eve was looking for.


End file.
